


if the sparks didn't glow (we would know)

by Slumber



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1 Things, Canon May Joss This, Cockblocking, M/M, My OTP is a disaster, Yuri Plisetsky is a Brat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8937388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slumber/pseuds/Slumber
Summary: Yuri may be a brat, but everyone's looking out for him-- with or without Yuri's approval.Or: The five times Yuri's virtue was unnecessarily protected, plus the one time it was.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place from the season's GPF in Barcelona on. I have less than 12 hours before this gets jossed, so what the hell, I'm posting it. (Please let me know if there are any mistakes so I can fix them and pretend they never happened.) Thanks to Ren, who could have stopped me, but because of timezones, didn't.

Yuri rolls his eyes before he stands up with the rest of the group, hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie and hair falling over half his face. He's absurdly relieved JJ showed up to ruin the merriment and also kind of annoyed at the same time-- it isn't that he was beginning to enjoy himself, but he could've stood to watch Katsudon squirm a little bit more.

He lags behind the group a little, shuffling his feet and shoulders bumping against his new friend Otabek's, who clears his throat and says nothing for a while. Then, at the next intersection, he nudges Yuri out of his thoughts. "I parked my bike this way."

Yuri glances up. He remembers where Otabek parked the motorcycle-- it's just a few steps down the street-- but everyone else is heading straight down the avenue. "Oh."

"Are you heading back to the hotel? If you like, I could--"

"Yurio!" someone calls out in a singsong, and Yuri clenches his fists. Something about Christophe's voice always grates on his nerves, and now he's walking back to Yuri and slinging his arm around Yuri's shoulders like they're _friends_ , what the fuck they're _not_ friends-- "What're you dawdling back here for? Come on, we don't want to lose you in Barcelona the evening before the Grand Prix Final!"

Then the light turns green and Yuri's protests are drowned out by Christophe cheerfully waving goodbye to Otabek, who's wearing his usual mysterious scowl.

But he nods at Yuri once before heading back to his bike.

* * *

It isn't that silver is _bad_ \-- well, yes, it _is_ , it's horrible and _it isn't gold_ , but Yuri's won second place before. It isn't that Katsudon wins gold-- he skated his program flawlessly and finally nailed every last component down and you know what, whatever, if he really wanted to marry Viktor it would have been embarrassing not to have done as well as he did. Yuri's not mad about that. 

It's that Yuri _loses_ gold. He had it within grasp: a record-breaking short program, Katsudon and JJ and their more technically difficult free skates behind him… Instead Yuri lets what they say about him-- that he's young and inexperienced and doesn't know how to handle the pressure-- he lets _that_ happen, and he fucks up _on his own_ and flubs two landings because _he_ doesn't have the stamina and he can't focus worth a damn after and proves them right and _loses_.

He's adamant about skipping the banquet, but Lilia strongarms him into going ("Chin high, Yurochka, prima ballerinas do not cower even in defeat.") so he puts on his suit and hardens his gaze.

It sucks anyway.

Viktor and Katsudon are the heart of the party, with Viktor plying his fiancé with champagne and Christophe whipping out that damned pole from out of nowhere _again_ and people left and right _congratulating_ Yuri like he deserves the praise for his failures and everyone wanting a repeat of last year's dance-off-- even JJ, of all people, is trying to goad Yuri into dancing with him and he isn't built like this, isn't capable of forgetting, can't just put his frustrations aside like a normal human being and pick it back up again when it's more convenient to be angry so he shoves JJ back and storms off in a huff, Lilia be damned.

The banquet's only a short walk from the hotel, so he circles the block a few times just to clear his head, maybe shake a tail in case some stupid well-meaning bleeding-heart asshole decides to follow him and make sure he was okay or something supremely embarrassing like that. He's still fuming when he spots someone in a familiar jacket and undercut approaching the hotel at the same time.

"Beka?" he calls out before he could stop himself, because it isn't until now he realizes he hadn't seen Otabek at the banquet either.

Otabek turns to him, but if he's surprised he doesn't let on. "Yura. You're not at the party?"

Yuri shrugs. "It was lame," he says, tamping down on the part of him that wants to grab Otabek by the shoulders and place him in front of Lilia under Exhibit A: GPF Medalists Who Didn't Have To Go To Stupid Banquets So Why Did You Make Me Go You Terrifying Witch. "You went out for a ride?"

Otabek nods. "It helps me think."

"Does it?" Yuri asks, but what he wants to know is if it stops the gnawing in your gut, if it helps quiet the what ifs and the should haves. Yuri is pretty sure he can ask Otabek, but even he knows some things you probably don't need to unload onto new friends days after you meet them. 

"Sometimes. Tonight, it made me think too much."

"Yeah," he sighs, catching Otabek's gaze briefly. It strikes him then that if anyone knows what this feels like, it would be Otabek. The corner of his lips quirks up, and he's a little alarmed at how easily that knowledge has made him feel a tiny bit better. "Sucks to be us, huh?"

A small nod. "My mother would say, 'The child learns to walk by falling down', but I feel like all I've done is fall down."

Yuri lets out what he intends to be a breathless laugh, mortified when what comes out instead is a sob. He tries to blink the tears away but they won't stop, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he angrily swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. There's a shadow approaching his tear-blurred line of sight and he shakes his head in warning. "Beka I swear to god if you try to give me a hug there will be hell to p--"

Otabek thrusts his scarf in front of him. "If it helps," he says gently. "I had a handkerchief but I already-- well. And I was trying to block you from the lobby. In case."

It threatens to set Yuri off some more, but he gathers what little pride he has left and wipes away all evidence of his shame on the scarf, and then Otabek's got a bottle of water for him and he takes that gratefully too. "At least you had the common sense to cry in private," he mumbles, cheeks still flushed. He also takes a few more steps away from the brightly lit walkway to the hotel, so his breakdown's not so obvious. Otabek follows, still shielding him from view.

"It's still private if it's between friends, no?" Otabek asks.

Yuri sighs. "Yeah, I guess so." He glances at the scarf, overcome by new shame at the realization that his sob-induced snot is probably all over it now. "Shit. I'm going to wash this but I fly out tomorrow. I can mail it--"

"Don't worry. I'm sure we'll see each other again. You can return it then."

"Okay. When do you--"

"Yurochka!" Yuri nearly jumps out of his skin. Yakov is the last person he expects to see but there he is, rounding the corner looking slightly out of breath, face red from exertion. "There you are. Been looking everywhere for you. What are you still doing out here? We leave first thing tomorrow!"

"Yeah, I know, I was just--"

"Go to your room, I'm not going to suffer your complaints during the flight."

Yuri rolls his eyes; Yakov's just as bad when he doesn't get enough sleep either, if not worse. "Fine, fine, old man. Beka--"

"Good night, Yura." 

"Yeah. Good night."

* * *

He achieves a personal best at Worlds, at least two points better than the free skate that earned him gold at the European Championships, and once the score sinks in he leaps from the kiss-and-cry to Otabek, who is standing nearby, unsuspecting, but who manages to catch him anyway. 

"Congratulations," Otabek says with all sincerity, even though it means he probably doesn't place higher than silver now. It feels nicer hearing it straight from his mouth, better than the thumbs up emoji he'd sent over text after Euros.

"Did you see? Were you watching?"

Otabek nods, and Yuri grins even wider, warmth blooming from his chest. "You set a high bar," he tells Yuri.

"I had to, I've seen your program." It had been enough for Otabek to dominate the Four Continents. No one had even come close, and Yuri had felt so damn smug. "Don't you dare fuck it up, okay?"

"I won't," Otabek promises, finally setting him down, his palms warm on Yuri's waist. His turn is up soon; Yuri shouldn't be keeping him from preparing. He needed to stretch and focus and get in the zone. Yuri should leave him to it.

"Will I see you at the banquet?" he can't help asking.

"I'd rather go for a ride, to be honest."

"Can I--"

"Yurochka!" Lilia calls out, face stern as always, and Yuri's stomach feels heavy. She'd never let him miss the banquet, especially not one he's likely getting gold for. 

"I'll text you later, okay?" Yuri says, and at Otabek's nod, he adds: "Davai."

* * *

"So this is the famous hero of Kazakhstan," Mila says when she skates over, all feminine curves and flirty smile and beautiful red curls. 

Yuri scowls. "Go away, Mila."

"I'm not intruding, am I?" she asks, but directs the question to Otabek, who is too polite to say yes, she is, they're in the middle of training, can she bother them never. She holds out a hand. "Mila Babicheva."

Otabek takes her hand and shakes it, introducing himself in turn. He's being too nice. He's never this nice with the male skaters. Yuri's scowl deepens, but apparently, neither Mila nor Otabek notice.

"So what brings you back to St. Petersburg? Yura's told us _so much_ about you."

"I have _not_!"

Mila smirks. "He won't talk to us when he's messaging you," she presses, ever needling and ever teasing and ever _annoying_. "You must be so funny, because Yura never smiles so much when he's--"

"He's visiting family nearby," Yuri snaps. "So he came to train for a few days here."

"Oh?" Mila asks, cocking a perfectly arched eyebrow, but Yuri's already skating away in a huff, taking over the other end of the rink for his drills.

"She only fucks hockey players," he tells Otabek hours later, when she finally leaves. "But you're welcome to try. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

"What?"

"I'm too tired for dinner. I'm going home."

* * *

Yuri doesn't see Otabek again until the NHK Trophy later that year. He'd wished Otabek luck at Skate America, and Otabek had returned the gesture for the Trophée de France, but the messages between them now are less frequent, more forced, strained by that stupid outburst last summer.

Yuri doesn't speak to Otabek again until after the medal ceremony's done and he's yelling himself hoarse, screaming at someone who looked like an ISU official for fucking up the Kazakh anthem and playing the wrong damn thing. He's about to throw his congratulatory bouquet at the terrified organizer when a hand falls to his shoulder and Otabek is there, quickly and quietly removing him from the situation. 

They walk past a stunned Phichit, who looks happy about his bronze medal but also mildly terrified of Yuri. They walk past a mortified Yakov and an incensed Lilia, but Otabek doesn't stop and they don't follow. They walk past the other skaters, the organizers, they walk past everyone until they are alone, in a bathroom somewhere, and Otabek finally lets go of Yuri.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "You didn't-- you shouldn't have done that, you're going to get in plenty of trouble--"

"I don't care," Yuri snaps. "It wasn't fair to you."

"I know. So. Thank you."

I didn't do it for you, Yuri wants to say, but it's not true. He kicks a nearby stall. The door swings wide open, smacking into the partition before swinging back into place. His hands are balled into tight fists and he still wants to be mad, still wants to kick and scream and throw things, but Otabek is so fucking calm he can't hold onto the rage. "Why are you so--" he starts, unable to finish when he finds himself at a loss for words.

"Yura, if I've done something wrong--"

"No. _Shut up._ You didn't do anything wrong, why are you so _nice_ to me? That's what's wrong, I don't _understand_."

"Because we're friends," Otabek says. "This is what friends do."

"I wasn't very nice to you," Yuri mumbles finally. "Last summer, I-- I bailed on you."

"You did."

"I fucked up. I got mad--"

"Jealous."

"Whatever. And you still want to be friends with me?"

"You called me an asshole the second time we met," Otabek reminds him, and when Yuri looks at him now, there's a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"And you still want to be friends with me."

"You yelled at the entire ISU for playing the wrong anthem. _My_ anthem, not yours."

"That's your fault-- why don't you still have staff to take care of it?"

"You're not even mad at me for winning over you."

"Oh, I'm mad, but I'm taking it out on the Grand Prix." Yuri frowns. "Besides, you _did_ do a better program than me."

"I liked yours. The theme could have been a little less aggressive."

Yuri snorts. "JJ did King of the World last year. After that anything was fair play." 

"Okay, if you say so." Otabek isn't trying to hide his smile now, and Yuri thinks, he hasn't seen him smile like this.

"Idiot," he mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets as he feels his face burn. An echo of their conversation snaps his head back up. "Hold on-- did you say I was _jealous_?"

He's never really seen Otabek blush, either. "Did I say what?"

"You did," Yuri realizes, taking a step toward Otabek and feeling surprisingly satisfied when Otabek steps back. "You _asshole_ ," he adds, advancing on Otabek until there's not much room for Otabek to go. "You knew. You could tell?"

"I wasn't sure--" is all Yuri lets Otabek say before he closes the distance between them, grabbing Otabek by his jacket and kissing him. Yuri feels Otabek's lips begin to part, but before he can deepen the kiss the bathroom door opens with a bang and Yuri and Otabek are suddenly five meters apart, looking anywhere but each other.

"Yurio! There you are!" Viktor says cheerfully, obliviously. "Oh, and how lucky we are, Yuuri-- looks like we found Otabek too!"

"What are you two assholes doing here?!" Yuri demands.

It's Yuuri who has the grace to look sheepish. "Kumamoto was only two hours away, we couldn't not drop by and say hi."

"On the _last_ day of the event?" 

"We passed by a ryokan, you know how Viktor is--"

"I couldn't resist!"

"You had your honeymoon _last summer_!"

"Now, now, Yurio," Viktor says, patting him on the shoulder, "life and love waits for no skater, let alone retired ones."

Yuuri interrupts before Viktor can get sidetracked. "Anyway, we wanted to come and congratulate you two. Yuri, especially, you've been doing so well for yourself. And you're only sixteen!" he adds, looking at Otabek.

"Come have katsudon with us!" Viktor pleads. "We found a good place! It's nothing like Yu-topia's, but it'll do in a pinch. Yurio, you still like katsudon, don't you?"

No, Yuri wants to say, just to be contrary, but they're already dragging him away, Yuuri and Viktor on either side of him, Otabek not far behind.

* * *

Yuri is on Otabek the minute his grandfather leaves to go to the store. "I can't believe," he murmurs against his lips, hands full of Otabek and knees on either side of Otabek's hips, "it's taken us this long to be alone."

"Yura--" 

Otabek's lips are sticky sweet with the ice cream they had earlier, his bare arms summer-hot beneath Yuri's touch. In the eight months since the NHK Trophy they've split six more medals between them, which is five and a half more than the total number of hours they've spent together. Yuri would suspect it a concerted effort to cockblock him had Viktor not gleefully acknowledged the plan during the Grand Prix in Nagoya and laid all doubts to rest. It would be pathetic if it weren't so damned _effective_. 

Everyone had only let up on their summer plans because they'd be staying with Yuri's grandpa, but here Yuri had the upper hand, and he'd spent the last week painstakingly stashing away the cat's dry food in random hiding places until, mysteriously, they ran out of it. 

"I haven't even seen you shirtless yet," Yuri complains, resolving to rectify the situation at once. He tugs on Otabek's shirt, palm laying flat for a moment against the skin beneath it-- just to marvel, just for a moment-- before he curls his fingers against the hem and rolls the material up. "Beka-- _Moorka_!"

Otabek jolts up, almost knocking Yuri off his lap when Yuri's traitorous cat leaps onto them, wedging herself firmly between both before she curls around Otabek's waist, her tail up in the air and her nose deep in the cushions of Yuri's couch. 

"She found the food--" Yuri groans, scooping Moorka away and ignoring her indignant hissing.

"What food?"

"Never mind that," Yuri says, changing tack. He tugs Otabek to his feet and leads him to his room, kicking the door shut. He's come this far to be foiled by a cat. "It takes Grandpa about a half hour to go to the store, so we've got to--"

"Yura."

Yuri licks his lips, glancing up with uncertainty. His hand falls away from Otabek's wrist but Otabek curls his fingers against his. "You don't want to?"

Otabek closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before he answers. "Of course I want to."

Yuri swallows. "But I'm too young." He tries to keep the disappointment out of his voice. 

"I'm-- I'm not ready."

"What?" Yuri asks, blinking up at Otabek, who suddenly looks as uncertain as Yuri's ever seen him. He frowns, studying the flush that spreads across his cheeks and reaches his ears. "You?"

"It's not like-- I didn't really have many chances--"

"But you're so... _you_ ," Yuri points out. He means hot. Otabek was so hot. He could've had anyone. _Anyone._ "Never?"

"Are you really going to make me say it?" Otabek asks, pained.

"No! I mean, no, no, it's fine, I--" Yuri pauses. "Okay. So... Mila?"

"Yura."

"Okay, okay, can't blame me for asking." Yuri takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a moment, and pulls Otabek's shirt back down as he exhales. "Okay. We're doing this. I mean we're _not_ doing this. And that's okay."

"Is it?" Otabek's got Yuri's hand in his, and his gaze meets Yuri's. "Are you sure?"

"We can go slow," Yuri decides with a nod, pulling Otabek down for a kiss. "We can figure the kissing stuff out first. And the rest will come later."

"Later," Otabek says with a nod, cupping Yuri's chin and angling his head up and _oh_ , Yuri thinks, his arms wrapping around Otabek's shoulders, they can do this for years.

**Author's Note:**

> For more about Otabek's handlers (or lack thereof), [refer to this post](http://time-limit.tumblr.com/post/154232585101/reasons-to-adopt-otabek).


End file.
